


The Problem

by bibliotech



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, batfam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 05:29:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15812370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bibliotech/pseuds/bibliotech
Summary: He will have at least two minutes of agony as his arm tries to remember what it's like to be an arm again, and not just a pseudo-pillow for one Richard Grayson.





	The Problem

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've posted in a decade, maybe? I fell deep into the pit that is SuperBat and Batfam, and there's no escape. I tried to keep it spoiler-free, but I've been catching up on post-Rebirth Nightwing, so Damian's objections to Blüdhaven might look familiar. I have no beta, because this is a brand-new fandom for me. If anyone wants to take pity on me, that would be neato! Message me here or on [Tumblr](https://the-gotdang-batman.tumblr.com/).

See, the problem is--

No, that's not the problem. The problem is that Dick has slumped over, dragging Damian with him, until they're both awkwardly curled up in the corner of a couch that can easily seat five or six people (or could, if one Jason Todd wasn't taking up most of the room, having successfully won a shoving match against Thomas). This means that the pins and needles in Damian's arm and shoulder have gone from mild irritation to actual annoyance. This means that when he is able to rise from this uncomfortable position, he will have at least two minutes of agony as his arm tries to remember what it's like to be an arm again, and not just a pseudo-pillow for one Richard Grayson.

No, that's not the problem, either (even though Damian would really like his arm back, sooner rather than later). 

The problem is that he's here, trying to get his fair share of popcorn (Grayson has always been a popcorn hog, deny it though he might) and give at least 15% of his attention to the film, which seems to involve reckless teenagers following cliche tropes that get them killed in predictable order. Never let Drake choose what they're going to watch on movie night, Damian has said that _over_ and _over_ , but does anyone listen? Of course not, because it's not as if Damian might have better taste than the imbecile who actually had the nerve to use 'hashtag' in a sentence the other day--and if that wasn't a killing offense, it really should be.

The problem is that he could shove Grayson away, regain feeling in his maltreated limb and continue barely-watching this idiotic attempt at horror, and it wouldn't be a problem. Dick wouldn't mind, because Dick never minds. He just ruffles Damian's hair and trades insults in that tone of voice that lets you know it's all affection and nothing less. That tone of voice that says _this is what families do, we give each other a hard time because we can_ and _I'm here for you, buddy_ and _I love you_.

The problem is, he only sees Dick during movie nights, because Dick, for some ridiculous reason, preferred Blüdhaven to Gotham. Blüdhaven, with its garish neon and deep-fried everything and absurd bars with kitschy names like The Last Stop or The Pour House, or (and this was unforgivable) the Wish You Were Beer, where Dick had posted drunken selfies with Wally that Damian had refused to like on Instagram, because he had standards, unlike some people (Todd, Thomas, Gordon). 

The problem is, he hasn't patrolled with Dick for weeks. Weeks, verging on months. And that's fine, it's not as if the Teen Titans don't keep him busy enough, and his time with Father is well spent, and he always manages to find some form of interesting trouble with Jon (and one of these days he'll be taller than that absurd farmboy, and he'll never have to hear any height-related jokes _ever again_ , and--)

No, the problem is--

Damian sighs, shifting his weight so that Dick is resting against the cushions, supporting his neck and back so that he won't wake up hunched over like an old man. He'll still wake up exaggerating his aches and pains, and suggest that they get in a quick sparring match to "work out the kinks". Damian will refuse, but Dick will ignore him and half-drag, half-carry him to the caves, and Damian will swear and put up a token protest that goes ignored, because Grayson is incapable of taking anything Damian says seriously.

The problem is, he's looking forward to that, and he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to look forward to stupid movie nights with terrible films and people hogging all the popcorn and perpetually greasy fingers and everyone talking all at once and Dick's arm around his shoulders, a warm, familiar weight.

The problem is, he's clinging to Dick's arm with his free hand, as if that alone will keep him here, in the Manor, at _home_. His real home, not the Atlantic City knockoff that he pretends to call home. The problem is that even in his sleep, Dick still has an arm wrapped around Damian's shoulders, keeping him close, and that should be enough, but it's not. _Come home_ , he wants to say. _You've got nothing to prove, to yourself or anyone else. Just come home._

Instead, he shoves another cushion behind them both, grumbling about lumbar support and irresponsible people with no regard for other people's limbs. And if Dick smiles a little in his sleep, Damian pointedly chooses not to notice this, because he doesn't care. Not one bit.


End file.
